


Pas de Deux

by seaweediscool



Category: The Book of Mormon - Parker/Stone/Lopez
Genre: Angst, F/M, M/M, but connor's boyfriend is a big idiot, connor just needs a hug tbh, dance, domestic abuse, i probably use too many swear words, kevin tries to help connor, naba/arnold are a minor relationship, oh well, tw attempted drowning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-03
Updated: 2018-04-03
Packaged: 2019-04-17 22:38:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14199156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seaweediscool/pseuds/seaweediscool
Summary: Connor wants to dance. It's all he's ever wanted. This dream comes to a stop when his new boyfriend decides he should focus on him.





	Pas de Deux

**Author's Note:**

> Please, please don't read this if you get triggered by any of the following things:   
> \- domestic abuse   
> \- violence   
> \- attempted drowning   
> \- verbal abuse   
> \- physical abuse 
> 
> This is based on the song Pas de Deux by Dodie Clark. I adore her music and have been playing with this idea for a long time. I think I've come a long way since my first fic on here which was also based around domestic abuse. This is also low key based off the domestic abuse storyline of Dom and Isaac that was on Holby City in April last year.  
>  Enjoy!

Connor McKinley had been dancing (and Mormon, but this for the moment is less important) for as long as he could remember. He had found his inspiration in the ballet shows his older sisters used to perform in, his mother insisting that the entire family should attend despite his father’s claims that ballet was _not manly_. The lights had emphasised his sisters’ light limbs twirling around the stage. He _longed_ for the stage.

His mother had enrolled him in a ballroom dance class a week later, even though his heart lay with ballet and tights and all things sparkly. Connor’s mother had achieved a compromise, at the time a compromise that he couldn’t understand, from his father that Connor could take dancing classes as long as it was something he could appear to be manlier in.  And that took him to _Susan’s Dance Studio._

He was in a class of girls but that was okay. They had all marveled at him as he was the only boy that they could ever recall being in their class and he had gained twenty new friends in the space of an hour. Connor felt _home_.

Ballroom seemed easier when his mother had shown him the tapes of his grandparents dancing. His feet didn’t want to move where he wanted them to and his arms kept tiring when he had to hold them against a girl’s shoulder and waist. But still he persevered and by the time his eighth birthday rolled around he had taken to whizzing his sisters around the room, allowing them to stand on his feet (his youngest sister anyway).

For his eighth birthday he asked for ballet shoes and ballet lessons. His parents gave in to his pleas eventually, after help from his sisters who had painted a banner that read _Let Connor McKinley Dance!_ in the colours of the rainbow. Connor didn’t understand the rainbow or why his father’s face had dropped when his sisters had displayed it on the front of the house but soon he had ballet shoes and ballet lessons. Connor didn’t know how his mother had persuaded this from his father.

Again, Connor was the only boy in his ballet class. Again, he didn’t mind. Again, he gained twenty new friends in the space of an hour. Again, he felt home.

For his ninth birthday, he asked for jazz shoes and jazz lessons.

For his tenth birthday, he asked for tap shoes and tap lessons.

This time it was different. There was another boy in this class, going by the name of Steve Blade and soon the two became the best of friends, even though Steve was non-Mormon and from a non-religious family. Connor didn’t see Steve outside of tap classes but Connor knew he had found his best friend for life.

That was until he began to develop unruly thoughts for Steve. The most notable being a dream on a deserted island, swimming naked in the water, and allowing Steve to _touch him there._ This carried on well into their teens and at fifteen Connor was certain that he was a _homosexual_ and he felt repulsed (yet thrilled) by its very notion. The Church had said _homosexuality_ was wrong for all of his life and he believed it – after all Mormons just believe and turn off feelings for boys with soft, brown, swoopy hair that could have hands running through it. _Gosh._

His father had figured out his _homosexual_ nature long ago and so had become more distant, choosing to pay his attention on the newest addition to the McKinley family – a baby boy, born when Connor turned twelve, going by the name of Zachary who was beginning to blossom into a football playing, baseball batting toddler. Everything Connor’s father had wanted. Zachary already knew some stories from The Book of Mormon which Connor hadn’t learnt until he was eight. A silent competition had begun, one which Connor knew he may not be able to win.

So, he turned off the gay thoughts, got himself a girlfriend, and forgot Steve. He quit his dancing lessons, apart from ballroom dancing that he now attended with his girlfriend (who had commented many times throughout their eighteen-month relationship that she was sure he was gay and with Steve, to which Connor would reply that homosexuality was against his beliefs to which his very Mormon girlfriend would giggle and bury her face into his chest).

The pride on his parents face when he was assigned District Leader was worth the repression, the ignored messages from Steve, and his very Mormon girlfriend kissing him every so often (he broke up with her on the grounds that he wanted to focus on his Mission rather than of his homosexuality, although his father had hinted of marriage after Connor’s mission had ended).

He arrived in Uganda, Mission Companion Elder Thomas ( _call me Poptarts!_ ) by his side, prepared to change the lives of the fine Ugandan people. However, instead of adventuring into the land of AIDS, mosquitos, guns, and death outside the Mission Hut, Elder Connor McKinley had decided to teach his fellow Elders how to tap dance. He had taped coins onto the bottom of everyone’s shoes and had distracted his boys from the world outside.

That was until Elder Price arrived, looking the spitting image of Steve Blade.

But all that was over now. Uganda was over now. Dancing remained. He took off to New York, the fifteen-year buzz for dance remained and he would often smile at the memory of burning lights and tights and all things sparkly. He still longed for the stage.

He took up classes again in his spare time or whenever he could afford them. His job as a waiter at a nearby Taco Bell did little to pay for rent and food and electricity and Wi-Fi never mind dance lessons. It was in this situation that a certain Elder from his Mission moved to New York, stripped of his religion, and prepared to use his Mormon smile in Taco Bell.

Connor had known Kevin Price’s first name back in Uganda but had omitted from using it be it from repression or pride (what he was proud of he didn’t know) or from wanting to stick to _some_ rules lest he _want_ to re-join the Church. When the day finally came for Kevin to arrive at Connor’s – and now Kevin’s – shoe box apartment, Kevin had introduced himself as though the two had never crossed paths before. Connor felt a little on edge at this before Kevin burst into laughter exclaiming that as Connor had never used his name or really gotten to know Kevin very well in Uganda, the two may as well start off as strangers.

Connor didn’t understand this at first. Hadn’t they shared eighteen months together in a brutal third world country? No matter. The two found themselves recounting stories from Uganda almost straight away, Kevin’s suggestion forgotten within an hour.

And thus, began the best part of Connor’s life so far.

 

***

 

The bones in his shoulders cracked as he moved them, his nerves getting the better of him. He was sat outside an audition room. Connor’s legs bopped up and down, another dancer (one who wore much more professional and expensive clothes than Connor) gave him a despairing glare. Connor pressed a hand on his knee to cease his leg movement.

The hallway outside the audition room was deathly quiet. Everyone else seemed much more subdued than Connor did, their mouths moving in a smirk whenever he would make eye contact with them. He decided to watch a male dancer stretch out, his legs falling into a split with ease. Connor stopped watching the male dancer.

The door to the audition room opened, disrupting the tense quiet and made Connor jump slightly. A female dancer, one with blonde hair tied in a ponytail, sleek with sweat exited followed by a woman with a clipboard who glanced around the hallway, her eyes stopping on the guy doing the splits for a mere two seconds.

“Connor McKinley?”

“Yep,” Connor stood, cursing at the way his voice had moved up an octave.

“You ready? Perfect. I’m Lisa, the assistant casting director, you may have received emails from me. When you go in you’ll see some masking tape on the floor. Give your CD to Dan, he’s the one next to the CD player, and then stand on the masking tape. We’ll have a quick chat with you before you get started.”

Connor felt sick.

 “So, Connor, is this your first audition?” the casting director, Melanie, had asked.

Connor nodded, feet planted firmly on the masking tape. The rest of the ‘chat’ was a blur of Connor telling them about himself – ex-Mormon, dedicated, punctual – them telling him about the production – newsboys, Christian Bale, papers – and a calming mantra in his head that Kevin had taught him – breathe in for four seconds, hold for four seconds, breathe out for five seconds. And then silence until –

The first chord. Connor’s nerves dissolved and soon he was flying, limbs striking at all the right moments, his feet expertly placed on the ground. The room passed around him, colours merging into one another, the faces of the casting director, assistant casting director, choreographer now distant. He was in his element. He’d never felt freer. This was his best performance.

It transpired that _Lisa_ and _Melanie_ did not think the same thing which was how Connor had found himself at a seedy bar a week later, Kevin chugging down beers at one side, Arnold and Naba dancing rather inappropriately on the other. It was supposed to cheer him up, at least that’s what Kevin had said, but so far, all Connor had experienced was a rather handsy grope from a woman and placing his sleeve in spilled beer (the latter was Kevin’s fault).

The bar that they were in was smoky, and loud, and totally not what Connor wanted. Connor wanted pizza, ice cream, and to binge _Ru-Paul._ He turned around to mention to Kevin that he wanted to go home and do such a thing – Kevin was gone. Connor sighed and looked around further for his friend, rolling his eyes when he saw Kevin talking intently to a group of women. _Stupid straight people and their longing for stupid homosexual men._

Pushing through throngs of people and having an entire drink thrown down his favourite shirt, Connor finally made it outside where low and behold Heavenly Father had managed to drop the ultimate blow of torrential rain. Connor sat down on the curb and closed his eyes.

“Mind if I join you?” a voice asked, distinctly male. “You look like you want to kill a bitch. If I share who I want to fight, do you maybe want to share who you want to fight?”

Connor opened his eyes. In front of him was the _most_ beautiful man (apart from Steve Blade (and Kevin by default)) he had ever seen in his life. This guy had a strong jawline, haunting grey eyes, and hair the deepest colour of night. The guy smiled, revealing a dimple in his cheek that Connor swooned at. In his hand were flowers, pink roses and yellow daffodils stood out to Connor, and his shirt was soaked showing a toned body. _Damn, is he perfect._

“I want to fight a guy I met on Tinder who told me he’d be here. A whole two hours later I get a message saying that he got back with his ex. I’d already bought the flowers. What about you?”

“I got rejected from an audition, taken to this place and had to watch my friends flirt with each other, and then had multiple drinks thrown on me. Although, if we’re talking about people, or things to fight I’d definitely go for the big man in the clouds. Connor McKinley, by the way.”

“Tommy Grant,” Tommy said and handed Connor the flowers, sitting down on the curb as he did so. “You may as well have these. I don’t think my date is going to need them.”

“Thank you. Is this a ploy to get me to go on a date with you? Because if not I’m going to ask you on a date anyway even if you’re straight, which I really hope you’re not,” Connor smiled, hoping that he had not made one of the biggest mistakes of his life.

“As it so happens I’m free on Thursday.”

“Cool.”

 

***

 

“Look Con, all I’m saying is the guy could be a serial killer, or really into … frogs. Do you really want extra input of frogs in your life again? This guy could be like the extra fictional version of Joseph Smith and have magical fuck frogs. You’ll have a magical fuck frog bless your wedding, do you want that Connor, do you really want that?!”

“I doubt he’ll have magical fuck frogs, Kevin,” Connor said.

“But what if he _does!_ ”

Connor sighed and held up two ties. One a silk blue, reminiscent of the one he often wore in Uganda, the other a simple black.

“Pick one.”

“Neither. It’s a date at Taco Bell. _The_ Taco Bell that you work at, you don’t need a fancy tie or suit. Just wear your black jeans and a blue polo shirt or something.”

“He’s _hot_ Kev, like actually holy Brigham Young on a stick you can rub your frog on my face any day hot. I don’t want to turn up in a polo if he’s going to be looking like an actual model.”

“I knew he had a thing for frogs.”

Connor left a slightly moody Kevin Price at their apartment, moaning that Connor had ruined their weekly movie night by finding a cute guy to have food with. The older man paid no heed to Kevin’s incessant pleads and went on his merry way to the Taco Bell he spent practically every waking hour at (except of course for movie night, failed auditions, and dance class) and would probably be sick of very soon.

He stood outside the restaurant, heart beating fast, gripping onto his phone for security. Maybe he could go back home, stay with Kevin, watch _Lilo and Stitch_ again, and forget that Tommy ever existed. Maybe Tommy wasn’t even real. Maybe Connor’s stress-addled mind made him up, made all the messages up, made the feelings up. _Jeez, I’m turning into a certified Arnold Cunningham._ But if curiosity can kill a cat then Connor may as well be the Rum Tum Tugger. He entered.

 Tommy sat at a booth near the back, invested in the screen of his phone. One feature was noticeably different. Tommy was wearing _glasses_. Connor’s mind immediately flashed back to the multiple times he had looked through Look Magazines, fawning over guys who wore glasses. This was the most perfect looking guy he had ever set eyes upon.

He made his way toward Tommy – who he now noticed was wearing simple jeans and a shirt ( _praise Kevin and his affinity for fashion)_ – phone now securely away in his pocket. Tommy noticed him before Connor could say anything.

“You look positively dashing,” Tommy came in with a quick hug which took Connor by surprise.

“I can say the same for you. The glasses really bring a nice touch.”

“Ah yes. They can _see_ the connection between us.”

“Was that a pun?”

“Yes. It most certainly was.”

Over the next taco filled two hours, Connor found himself falling from the general _oh this guy is kinda hot_ zone to the fully fledged _holy heck I have a severe crush_ zone. Not only did Tommy have ambitious plans of becoming a human rights lawyer he had an amazing personality filled with aforementioned puns, an abundance of kindness, and a dog (going by the name of Jasper who lived with Tommy’s parents in Minnesota). It wasn’t hard to fall.

“Any frogs?” Kevin had asked when Connor returned.

“No. A date next Thursday as well. He’s a keeper.”

Kevin launched himself onto the sofa and murmured: “Screw Tommy and his stupid dog.”

Connor couldn’t hear the next sentence and he wasn’t sure he wanted to. All he heard was _magical fuck frogs._ Kevin sure did take movie night personally.

 

***

 

The next date Connor shared with Tommy was at Tommy’s own (unshared) apartment. The one after that a walk through Central Park. The one after that in a higher end restaurant rather than a Taco Bell. That’s when Tommy had asked Connor to make it official and be his boyfriend. Connor had squealed a yes and had left Kevin alone all night in their apartment.

 

***

 

“So, _you’re_ Tommy!” Arnold shook Tommy’s hand forcefully. “I’m Arnold, the prophet that Connor has mentioned to you. This is my girlfriend Nagasaki- “

“Nabalungi.”

“- Necromancer. We met in Uganda which is where I’m a prophet, ahm, I have to ask this, but are you more of a Star Trek guy or a Star Wars guy? This will severely affect our friendship, choose wisely.”

“Well, I’m certainly not opposed to either,” Tommy said cautiously. “But Yoda holds my heart, sorry Con.”

The five were stood (or sat) in Connor and Kevin’s lounge. Kevin was the one sat on the floor by the coffee table, staring rather forcefully at his copy of _Lilo and Stitch_ that Connor had refused to watch with him five weeks in a row. He removed his gaze from the movie, instead glaring at Tommy and his blindingly white smile. Kevin ran his tongue over his own teeth (which were exponentially more shiny and white and clean than Tommy’s could ever be) and gave a toothless smile of his own when Tommy had glanced over to him. Connor was attached to Tommy’s side, clinging on to his every word, gazing at him with such fondness that Kevin could be sick. Arnold was also hanging onto his every word. So much for Arnold’s promise of not replacing him as his best friend. Naba had joined him on the floor and was looking at Kevin disapprovingly.

“If you glare at him anymore your eyes will burst,” Naba said matter of factly.

“That’s the idea. I won’t have to _see_ him anymore,” Kevin mumbled then sighed. “I’m being a dick, aren’t I?”

“Go and say hello to him. He may surprise you.”

Kevin did.

 

***

 

Kevin didn’t see Connor as much after that. The red-head changed shifts to match up with Tommy’s university schedule and movie nights were all but non-existent. When Connor did come home, a sock was always fixed on his bedroom door handle and Kevin had had to turn the music on his headphones up to extraordinary levels. He often removed Tommy’s jacket from the sofa to the kitchen side.

The lack of Connor McKinley in his life was certainly having a detrimental effect.

Kevin didn’t want to become the mopey friend so he decided to get ‘some action’ himself which led him to the arms of ex-Elder Chris Poptarts Thomas where he sobbed into them for the better half of an hour. Poptarts was also living in New York with ex-Elder James Church who had popped out for ice cream to soothe the overly pretentious ex-Mormon.

“Like, I _know_ I should be supportive of him, but, I dunno, I just, he’s missed movie night for the past _three_ months and we should be on Christmas movies by now, but we haven’t watched _Lilo and Stitch_ yet,” this was accompanied by a sniffle or two.

“Have you tried to talk to him?” Poptarts asked and handed Kevin a tissue.

“No.”

“You should probably do that.”

“But I don’t want to annoy him.”

“The guy’s lived with you for at least three years now, he wouldn’t get annoyed at you for that.”

Kevin glared at Poptarts for being largely a spectator, rather than being on Kevin’s side and saying that Connor McKinley was being an almighty _dick._

“All I’m saying is communication is the main aspect of any relationship,” Poptarts noticed Kevin’s shocked face. “ _Friendship,_ whatever. If you wanted someone to be on your side you should have gone to Arnold or told me to go get the ice cream. James would’ve been ready to fight.”

Kevin hummed in agreement. His mind stayed focused on the word _relationship_ and why he had liked that word when associated with him and Connor. He went through a list of reasons before –

_Oh fuck._

_***_

 

Whilst Kevin was having his mini-breakdown over his entire friendship with Connor, Connor himself was having the best time of his life in the bed of someone whom he was pretty sure he could love. He was tucked just under Tommy’s shoulder after a _pleasurable_ misadventure whilst the other man’s hand combed through his hair. Tommy’s bare chest was warm, the heat radiating off of him, making Connor rather sweaty but as he was _very_ comfortable Connor chose to ignore this.

“Do you want kids? When you get older and settle down?” Tommy asked, the first words that had been spoken for a while.

“Maybe, I dunno,” Connor turned his body so that his cheek was pressed against a part of Tommy’s (rather chiseled) chest. “It’s anatomically impossible.”

Tommy snorted.

“And adopting is pretty much not an option because I’m going to be a poor dancer for the rest of my life. Either that, or I’ll stay at Taco Bell. D’you think they’d let me be buried in the parking lot?”

“Nah, they’d have an open coffin instead of a counter, like the modern version of Lenin.”

It was Connor’s turn to snort.

“Are you really wanting to be a dancer for forever?” Tommy’s tone of voice turned disbelieving, sending a horrid sensation down Connor’s spine which he chose to ignore.

“Yeah, it’s all I’ve wanted to be. I don’t have any back up options,” Connor laughed, hoping the conversation would end or move onto a cheerier topic. He knew that Tommy’s future profession was much more secure and would potentially land him a pent house in the centre of the city. Connor wasn’t expecting Tommy to stick with him for that long.

“What about college? Surely you’ve thought about that.”

“No. I don’t have the money and I don’t want to stay in debt forever in a job that I hate. Can we like, not talk about this now? I’m tired.”

“When are we going to talk about it? I thought we were serious!” Tommy sat up violently and Connor quickly followed his example. “We should have these talks. We’re together, and you need to think about something other than a stupid dream you had when you were seven.”

Connor scoffed and grabbed his phone from Tommy’s night stand. The time read half eleven.

“You could actually have a proper conversation about this,” Tommy was harsher somehow, his features just as sharp as his voice sounded, the moonlight shining on his face.

“You’re saying I should quit dance, the one thing I’ve been confident about, and you think I’m not going to be annoyed?! I’m trying to calm down so that I do something stupid, gosh,” Connor threw his phone onto the bed; it disappeared into the gloom. “Dance is one of the only things that I love, how _dare_ you suggest I _quit._ I’m nearly there with it, just a few more auditions and I could be on stage.”

Tommy sighed, seemingly defeated, before continuing: “But how many more auditions is it going to be? If you do stop then you can start to save up for college. I can help with the fees.”

“Why would you do that?”

“I love you. I thought I’d made that obvious.”

Connor froze. He wasn’t as ready as he thought he was to hear that word.

“I just want to help you. I literally couldn’t bear to see you achieving _nothing_ with your life. I want you to be happy,” Tommy’s face turned sincere, his eyebrows rising up and his lips curving into a small smile.

“Okay, well I, um, sorry, you can’t tell me what to do, I, fucking hell,” Connor gripped his phone tighter, lines of frustration now evident on his forehead. “Dance makes me happy, _you_ make me happy when you’re not being a dick. I can’t _choose_ between the two of you, _gosh_.”

“I’m not asking you to,” Tommy’s words were smooth, almost velvety. They were soft and caressed his ears with a touch so gentle that if Connor were not angry he’d melt into them.

“It sounded like you _were_ , Tommy.”

“I’m not. I was merely expressing my opinion but I’d never make you choose.”

“Look, I can’t deal with you right now. I’m tired and I want to go home,” Connor stood and began to collect his clothes that were scattered throughout the bedroom.

“It’s late. There won’t be a cab.”

Connor stared at Tommy incredulously. “We’re in New York. There’s always a cab. And if not, I can walk.”

And as Connor left Tommy’s apartment he pretended he didn’t hear the muffled _I love you,_ instead keeping his focus on putting one foot in front of the other and then on hailing a cab. He desperately needed a movie night with Kevin. Or _just Kevin._

 

***

 

Kevin was sprawled on the sofa, a smile finally fixed on his face after a weekend of grovelling from Connor, when he suggested that the apartment could do with an animal of some kind. Connor had initially suggested a cat to which Kevin had frowned at as _cats are the pet of the devil –_

“– one time my neighbour’s cat scratched me when I tried to stroke it. Pure evil! Now dogs, _dogs_ are cool. They’re loyal and friendly and actually want to hug you.”

Connor took a deep breath as though he was going to say something dramatic and/or awe-inspiring. Instead, he simply said:

“No.”

“Why not?” Kevin whined, voice petulant, and eyes wide staring at Connor who was rifling through the aphetically assigned movie shelf.

“The tenancy agreement said no dogs.”

“But,” Kevin sat up, pulling the _puppy dog look_ (wide eyes, a frown, and a childlike voice) off with ease. “We could dress the dog up as a cat when the landlord comes around. And then I’ve got my dog and you’ve got your cat.”

“No.”

“Arnold would let me have the dog.”

“Go and move in with Arnold.”

“You’d be great with a dog! Remember when you looked after that stray one for a week in Uganda?”

“ _You_ looked after it, without telling me, and then were shocked when I got mad when it turned out to be a hyena.”

“I miss Harry the Hyena. What about a mouse?”

“Rubbish. Goldfish?”

“Horse.”

Connor snorted as he finally picked out a DVD. He put it on before grabbing the bowl of popcorn from the coffee table.

“Move up.”

Kevin simply lifted his legs up, allowing space for Connor to sit down, and then placed his legs on Connor’s thighs. Connor glared at him for a moment and then gave an eye roll, shuffling to find a place where Kevin’s legs wouldn’t stop his blood flow. He noticed Kevin’s outstretched hand reaching for the popcorn bowl and smiled fondly. 

_Home was what this felt like._

_***_

 

“Okay fine, it was an awful idea.”

The sound of smashing glass filled Tommy’s apartment.

“Fucking hell! _What the fuck, Tommy_!”

 

***

 

“How’d you get that cut?”

“Tommy accidentally dropped a dish. It’s nothing.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m _very_ sure, Kevin.”

“As long as you’re okay.”

“I’m always fine.”

 

***

 

“I’m going to a conference in Sweden. Do you want to come?”

“I’ll have to think about it. Talk to Kevin. He’s been looking down lately.”

A hand gripped onto Connor’s wrist. He refused to believe it was Tommy’s.

“You’re always with him.”

“I _live_ with him,” Connor pulled his wrist out of the vice-like grasp.

“You’re _mine.”_

“I know. He’s my friend, nothing more,” Connor gave Tommy a light kiss on his forehead, showing that he was completely loyal.

“You promise?”

“Yeah. Promise.”

 

***

 

“You quit dance?” Kevin was confused.

“Tommy thinks I should focus on more worthwhile things. I’m going to apply to college.”

“If it means anything I thought you were going to get on Broadway with your dancing.”

“That was just a stupid dream. It didn’t mean anything. A History Degree will get me somewhere, dance _won’t.”_

“If you’re sure.”

Connor said nothing.

 

***

 

Nine months passed easily and, in that time, Connor had quit dance, started collecting books needed for his History Degree, but was still making it to movie night. After Kevin had had his initial two-day sulk at Connor and Poptarts had messaged Connor about the drunken, ice cream mess Kevin had turned into eight months ago, Connor had vowed to attend movie night for as long as he lived for fear of Kevin ignoring him in an ice cream filled haze.

This time was different. This time instead of Connor sat on the sofa, munching a bowl of popcorn, Tommy sat in his place with Kevin’s best friend (second, of course, to Arnold) curled into his side, popcorn nowhere in sight.

“Hey Kevin,” Tommy said, teeth as white as ever (again Kevin ran his tongue over his own teeth – still whiter). “You alright if I join you, pal?”

“Thought you had work,” Kevin glared at Tommy. He sat on the floor, back against the sofa, careful not to touch either Tommy or Connor.

“I took the day off.”

 _To make my day even worse, thanks,_ Kevin thought before saying “Oh cool. We watching _The Lion King_ or…”

Connor made a noise to agree but was sharply cut off by Tommy.

“I was thinking something more grown up. Like _The Shawshank Redemption.”_

“We don’t have that, sorry,” (Kevin wasn’t really very sorry at all). “ _Lion King_ it is then.”

“Lucky I brought it myself then.”

Kevin glared harder before getting a sharp kick in the back from Connor.

“Great. _Prison_. Cool. I’ll put it on.”

Kevin was bored and he was sure Connor was bored too from the sarcastic comments he whispered in Kevin’s ear every so often, up until Tommy had pulled Connor back to his side with a forceful tug. Kevin had frowned at that but he wasn’t sure Connor would appreciate the fuss.

At around ninety minutes into the movie Connor left the room, claiming he needed some water, which left Kevin and Tommy alone. All was silent for a couple of minutes but Kevin could feel the now much more visible tension that filled the room. He shifted a little in his seat on the floor before resigning to stand up to fully stretch out.

“You think you’re subtle, don’t you?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” and Kevin truly didn’t. He quickly thought back to the slightly heated conversation he’d had with Tommy earlier – there seemed to be nothing that would have annoyed Tommy to the extent of actually talking about it.

“Really?!” Tommy exclaimed incredulously.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Kevin chuckled nervously and perched on the arm of the sofa.

“You keep _looking_ at him, like, like you’re in love with him,” Tommy’s voice turned to a cruel whisper now. “And I’m, I’m _fine_ with you two living together because I know that he wouldn’t try anything with anyone apart from me, but you, _you._ I don’t trust you. Not one bit.”

“I’m not going to try anything with him, why would you even _think_ that?” Kevin said. “He’s one of my best friends and he has a boyfriend already. Yeah, okay fine, I’m gay and I live with a man who is equally gay if not more so, but we’re _just friends._ And, just for the record, I don’t trust you either. Not with Connor. I wouldn’t trust you with a, a, a snail.”

“That’s original. Wow. And I thought you were just hair spray. Now, you’re like, _hair spray with feelings_ and some incoherent thoughts.”

“You’re a dick. God, I hope Connor realises that before I have to tell him myself.”

“You wouldn’t _dare_.”

“Wouldn’t I?” Kevin stood, his voice louder now. “You’re manipulative, you don’t listen to what he wants, and I’m pretty sure you don’t actually love him.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Tommy’s hand, now rolled into a fist, twitched as he stood from his previously reclined position on the sofa.

“Exactly what it said on the tin, _pal.”_

“You don’t know _anything_ about my feelings toward Connor.”

Tommy came to face Kevin, the two men equal in height but not in strength. Kevin knew that if _this_ came down to a fight Tommy would win, but even so, he didn’t shy away from Tommy’s eyes of steel.

“You don’t know _a thing_ about me, but I definitely know something about you,” Tommy’s breath tickled Kevin’s face as Tommy spoke; Kevin was tempted to shy away but yet he remained strong. “You love him and if you don’t back the _fuck off_ I’ll _ruin_ you.”

Kevin would later recall slamming his fist into Tommy’s face leaving a rather satisfying blood stain on the carpet.

 

***

 

“I’m moving out.”

“Why? We still have two months on the lease?”

“You _hit_ my boyfriend, Kevin! You punched him in the face! He had to go to the hospital to get his nose aligned again!”

“But he was, he was _threatening_ me! Remember he did _hit me_ as well, it wasn’t just _me!_ And then you left, _holding his hand_!”

“As I said, I’m moving out. I’m serious about him, Kev, and if you can’t accept that, then well, we’re no longer friends.”

“He’s a dick! And he’s manipulative, and he cut you with that casserole dish that one time!”

“That was an accident. I love him.”

“He made you quit dance!”

“Fuck you, Kevin Price.”

 

***

 

Connor could recall the exact moment he began walking on eggshells rather than floating free above a river. The moment came exactly one week after he had moved out of his and Kevin’s – now simply just Kevin’s – shared apartment and was a complete and utter shock to Connor (lie – this wasn’t a shock, he had simply ignored it, willing himself to believe that everything would be alright). It came in the form of Tommy, as all things then did, but this version, this side to Tommy was more vicious, more awful than what Connor had ever encountered before.

The _moment_ began simply enough, a forgotten plate in the sink (a plot point to remember for later) forgone for Connor’s laptop and an audition that Connor had applied for months ago. Connor was practically bouncing with joy, his fingers frantic as he typed back a reply, his lungs barely managing to draw breath at the pure excitement turning to adrenaline that coursed through his entire being. Immediately he went to shout for Kevin only to realise that the two had left on unhappy terms.

Just as Connor was about to send the email after numerous spelling and grammar checks (he didn’t want to come across as someone who couldn’t differentiate between there, their, and they’re), Tommy came into the kitchen. Quickly, Connor switched tabs, his heart beating erratically.

 Tommy paused in his pursuit to the fridge and looked at Connor strangely. “You alright Con?”

“Yeah,” Connor’s voice cracked.

“You sure? You’re not hiding anything are you?” Tommy said.

“No.”

“That doesn’t sound very convincing.”

“No. No, I just. I got an email. About an audition from months ago. I was sure they’d forgotten about me but they emailed me and asked if I was still interested!” Connor smiled deliriously and felt happy tears prick at his eyes. “If I get this I don’t have to do history and that means you won’t be in debt and I can pay rent. We could get somewhere bigger with more room! This, I can feel it Tommy. I know I’m going to get it.”

Tommy said nothing. His face said what he was thinking though – his lip was raised up and his eyes looked at Connor with unadulterated loathing.

“Tommy? Are you going to say anything?” Connor remained hopeful.

Tommy’s face dropped the grimace replacing it with what Connor thought was a genuine smile.

“Yes. Yes, I. Wow. That’s _great_ Connor.”

“You think so? So, you’d be alright if I accepted?”

“How fucking dumb are you? We have a plan, Connor. You were going to drop that stupid dream and do something worthwhile instead of prancing around the stage, wasting your life away, trying to fit into some tight leotard or something when you’re fifty and balding.”

“Tommy, what are you- “

“You’re so fucking selfish, aren’t you? You think the entire fucking world revolves around you! Who _cares_ that you went to Uganda?! Who actually _cares_ that you had an argument with Kevin? I’ve had to listen to you moan about him for the past week non-stop!”

“I, I thought you said that was okay, I,” Connor stood from his seat at the kitchen table, his face turning an awful shade of red, something that occurred whenever he got overly emotional. “Why are you pulling this shit with me now?! You _made_ me quit dance!”

“You didn’t have to _quit,_ I merely suggested a career change because - “

“You said I wouldn’t amount to anything- “

“That’s because you _won’t._ Not if you go after dance! Do you know how many people I’ve met in this city that came here to be on Broadway that have _never_ amounted to _anything?!”_

“Fuck you, actually _fuck you_ ,” Connor’s happy tears were beginning to turn to the opposite of what they had first set out to become. “Kevin told me that you were awful and now I can see where he’s coming from! Why – “

“Need I remind you that _he threatened me?!”_

“Kevin doesn’t have a threatening bone in his body!”

“He punched me!”

“And you punched him back!”

The two were now facing each other, bodies close, chest grazing chest.

“I was defending you! Defending _us!_ He’s _in love with you!”_

Connor felt a wave of shock ripple through his body. “What?”

“He’s in love with you! Of course he’d say that I was awful. He’s jealous. Can’t you see that?”

“No. No, he’s not, why are, why are you lying?”

“Why would I lie about that?”

Connor stepped back from Tommy, his face contorted into the shape of disbelief. He felt sick to the stomach. Cautiously he leaned over the sink which was full to the brim of water and a singular plate (again, a plot point that _must_ be stressed), his breathing erratic and mind trying to make sense of the information that had been forcefully gifted to him.

When Kevin Price had walked into the Mission Hut for the first time, Connor had felt his entire being light up in a way he hadn’t felt since Steve Blade. Kevin was everything Connor could have ever wanted – male, _hot,_ and intelligent. All he had to do was ignore the other qualities that made him less than ideal – narcissistic, assumed straight, and overtly Mormon – and _bam:_ perfect. The overwhelming attraction withered away after two years but every so often Connor would feel the spark reignite in his core where the butterflies hid away. But to think that Kevin liked him, nay _loved_ him back? Gosh, that was all Connor had been wishing for.

But he was with Tommy. Kind, gentle, handsome Tommy. Awful, manipulative, rather a big dick Tommy.

“I _couldn’t_ lie about that. He has some disgusting pervy little crush on you. It’s pathetic, he’s pathetic. I was only defending our relationship. You’re better off without him! He’s – “

“Oh my God will you just _shut the fuck up_?!” Without realising he’d done so, Connor had retrieved the singular plate (also known as the plot point) from the sink and had launched it across the kitchen, missing Tommy’s head by less than an inch. It shattered against the wall and left an eerie silence in its wake. “Fuck. I, I didn’t mean to do that.”

Silence.

“Can, can you say something?”

Silence. Tommy took a step toward Connor still leaving a moderate gap between the two of them.

“Anything. You can, you can start shouting at me now, just please say _something.”_

Silence.

“I’m sorry, I am, I…”

Tommy closed the gap between them. He put a hand gently on the back of Connor’s neck. Connor leaned into the touch thinking that this was a suggestion that Tommy forgave him, or at the very least didn’t despise his very being.

“Just know that I love you, yeah?” Tommy whispered.

Before Connor could do anything apart from hold his breath, his head was plunged underneath the lukewarm water of the sink. The liquid filled his senses; it muffled his hearing and stung his eyes. Almost immediately he began to fight back against the tight grip on his neck. His arms flailed as he tried to find a part of Tommy’s body to hit; this movement was restricted a couple of seconds later when Tommy’s spare hand gripped Connor’s arm that was closer to Tommy against Connor’s back. Connor’s other hand gripped the counter and tried to push himself up from the water. Connor was quickly running out of breath. He could feel his lungs beginning to sting and little black dots filled his vision. The arm pushing against the counter started to lose its strength.

And then the pressure on his body stopped. He lifted his head out of the water and coughed violently as he heaved air back into his lungs. Distantly he heard Tommy and another female voice talking; some words filtered through: _“… perfectly fine … argument ...” “if … sure?” “… worry … shout if there was ... “._ Connor tuned out of that conversation, opting to focus on his breathing technique and slumped on the tiles leaning against the cupboard door. Droplets of water dripped from his head and onto the tiles.

Tommy re-entered the kitchen, looking as dashing as ever save for one wet sleeve. He ignored Connor for a moment, deciding to turn his attention to the laptop that now seemed to be mocking Connor. From what Connor could make out, Tommy deleted the email Connor had painstakingly edited not ten minutes prior.

After that, Tommy finally acknowledged Connor, a smirk appearing and then vanishing so fast that Connor couldn’t be sure if it was really there or if he had just imagined it. Tommy offered a hand to Connor. After little hesitation Connor took it.

The two embraced in the middle of the kitchen with a broken plate, a wet floor, and a mocking laptop surrounding them. Connor couldn’t help but wish Tommy was Kevin instead of Tommy.

 

***

 

“We’ve set a date for the wedding!”

“Oh my _gosh_ that’s amazing Naba! When?! Where?!”

“In February in Sal Tlay Ka Siti. I know we’re not exactly Mormons now but I couldn’t get married anywhere else. Would you be my Man of Honour?”

“ _Yes!_ Holy fuck yes!”

“Tommy can be your plus one if you want. He is so kind, it would be brilliant if he came.”

“I’ll. I’ll have to ask. He might be in the middle of exams. I dunno.”

Self-consciously, Connor pressed on one of many bruises decorating his arm.

 

***

 

“You didn’t tell me _Kevin_ would be here for cake tasting!” Connor whispered ferociously.

“I thought you’d have assumed he’d be Arnold’s best man. He also lives with us now so it’d be rude to not invite you and not him,” Naba frowned.

“Nabs! Come taste this!” Arnold shouted; Kevin glared at him and then looked despondently at a fallen piece of red velvet cake on the floor.

“You two need to make friends again, I don’t want you two to ruin this with flirting or shouting.”

Connor sighed dramatically and leaned slightly against the wall. He felt a spike of pain shoot across his hip but ignored it, teeth gritted and longing to do what Naba (and himself) wanted.

 

***

 

“Naba wants me to go down a week before the wedding to help set up properly and have a bachelorette party. Are you okay flying by yourself?”

“Yeah, course I am. Just don’t do anything stupid and stay away from Kevin. He’ll destroy the _love_ that we have.”

“Okay, will do. Love you.”

“I love you more, _mina_.”

The trip to Sweden had meant that Tommy had learned some Swedish, most prominently the Swedish word for _mine._

_***_

 

“Oh, for fuck's sake! I’m going to kill Arnold!” Kevin stood in the doorway of what Connor had assumed was a hotel room _strictly for him and him alone_.

“What are you doing _here_?” Connor questioned, pausing in unpacking his clothes from his (very pink) suitcase (the same one which he had taken to Uganda).

“It appears that the married couple to be are making us ‘become friends’ again by forcing us into an entirely stereotypical situation of one hotel room with one double bed where we’ll probably have an argument about our differences and then move back in together after the wedding.”

There was silence for a moment until Connor burst out into raucous laughter. Kevin bit back a smile until he could no longer hold it and began to laugh himself, gloriously happy.

“I missed that. I missed you.”

“Friends again then Con?”

“Definitely.”

 

*** 

 

Connor McKinley had been dancing and Mormon for as long as he could remember and now back in Salt Lake City after four years he knew why he had left. The religion was everywhere. At a glance, he could see young men from the Mission Training Centre wielding their book and chatting animatedly with tourists.

He tried to ignore this and set his sights on the one place in this entire city that felt like home to him – _Susan’s Dance Studio._ After ignoring a couple of Missionaries in training (and informing one of them that he was excommunicated from Mormonism and didn’t regret it which sent the kid reeling) he finally reached his destination. It seemed smaller than he remembered but it still set a small smile to grace his lips. Distantly he could see the himself as a child running up and down the steps that led to the front entrance, dance bag swinging on his back, tap shoes clattering against stone.

Only one class was in session. Connor ignored the stares from mothers and took a seat near the window to see into the old studio. It seemed the children inside were watching a couple dancing. The two were magnificent. They twirled around one another and stood en pointe with such elegance that Connor couldn’t take his eyes away from them.

 _That_ could have been him. If he hadn’t quit dance and if he hadn’t gone to Uganda and _if he wasn’t trying so desperately hard to please Tommy Grant._

He could feel tears of longing begin to form and he hastily wiped them away with the hem of his sleeve lest a prying mother try and comfort him. He hadn’t felt the need for his mother before but now surrounded by all these women who could offer support and _proper love_ he couldn’t help but wish for his own mother. She had lost contact with him during Uganda, as did the majority of the Elders’ parents save for Poptarts and Michaels.

The door to the classroom opened and around thirty young girls came flooding out shouting about what _Madame Marotta and Master Blade_ had shown them. Connor didn’t focus on the girls. His eyes were focused on the one and only Steve Blade who was shouting above the noise asking _has anyone left their ballet shoes? If someone doesn’t take them I’m going to keep them for myself!_

Steve Blade. He was _right_ _there_. Connor felt his breath hitch. He stayed sat down until the girls and their mothers had left, staring into the empty studio.

“Can I help you?” Steve asked, oblivious to who Connor was.

“No. I. Sorry, I used to dance here. Years ago, erm, I don’t. I don’t really know what I’m doing here, I’m sorry, I can just go sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologise. Or go.”

“Right,” Connor froze half way to the door.

“Sorry, do I know you?”

“Yeah, yeah. You did. It’s Connor. Sorry. Connor McKinley. Sorry.”

“Holy _hell_ ,” Steve’s face lit up. He pulled Connor into a tight hug which made Connor wince slightly (but only a bit, nothing compared to before). “You stopped answering my texts. I thought your parents had sent you to a conversion camp or something, I was so worried! But then this guy called Arnold or something wrote a book that was basically taking the piss out of Mormons and _your picture_ was in the bit about accepting yourself and how you accepted your sexuality!”

“Yeah,” Connor pushed against Steve’s shoulders gently. “How did, how did you know about that?”

“There was a shipment of them! They were dropped off at his parent’s house or something but they didn’t want them so sent them to the library – it was right at the back so like kids can’t read it! It’s amazing! I’ve read it so many times, God. Uganda, huh?”

“Uganda,” Connor smiled. “I liked the Pas de Deux you just did. Amazing.”

“Do you want to come in the studio?”

“I, I can’t, I um, my boyfriend… No, fuck, um, I need to get back to the hotel, sorry.”

“Are you okay?”

“I, I’m fine. I, I shouldn’t have come here.”

“Connor?”

“I want to dance _so badly_ ,” and this time Connor didn’t just feel tears prick at his eyes. For the first time in the longest time, he burst into tears, face falling into the crook of Steve’s neck.

“Why can’t you? Hey, hey come on. You remember what Madame Susan Pattou used to say, yeah? No crying, just dance.”

“He tried to _fucking drown me_. I _can’t_ dance. He wants me to focus on him. _It’s always about him.”_

“Con, what are you talking about?”

“I, I need to get back to Kevin. Back to the hotel.”

Steve drove Connor back to the hotel and insisted on taking him to his room. The two of them stood outside the door for a couple of minutes, Connor exhausted and leaning his full body weight onto Steve. If his fifth-grade self could see him now.

Kevin opened the door, confused only for a second. His face turned to shock when he saw the tear tracks staining Connor’s cheeks.

“What happened to- “

He was interrupted by a fist to the face.

“What the fuck was that for?!”

“What the fuck Steve?!”

Kevin and Connor shouted at the same time, Connor rushing to Kevin’s side. Kevin’s nose was now bleeding profusely.

“Go get tissues Steve, don’t just _fucking stand there_!”

Five minutes later, Kevin’s nose had stopped bleeding. Kevin was sat on the edge of the bed still dabbing at his (very) sore nose and giving a pointed look to Steve whenever he could.

Steve was still very confused which was why he said: “You told me like half an hour ago that _he_ tried to _drown you_.”

Connor sighed and wiped a hand down his face. Kevin stopped in his dabbing adventure.

“Why the _fuck_ would you say that? I know we haven’t been seeing eye to eye lately but I thought we were friends again!” Kevin exclaimed.

“I didn’t say that _Kevin_ did that. I didn’t even _say that at all so please stop mentioning it_.”

“How else am I supposed to take that? You start crying on me saying that _he tried to drown you_ and then you mention Kevin and then I bring you here. Has this been going on since you were in Uganda? I saw your picture in _The Book of Arnold_. You looked kind of creepy, full offence mate by the way,” Steve crossed his legs, raising his eyebrows as if to say _your turn Kevin._

“Why would I try to drown Connor? Maybe his boyfriend yeah, but not Connor, jeez. Also, the reason I look creepy in _The Book of Arnold_ was because I hadn’t had a haircut in over a year, so fuck you _Steve Blade_ ,” Kevin threw a bloody tissue in the trash can – the movement made his nose begin to bleed afresh. “Oh for fuck’s sake. I’m going to sue you.”

“Wait, you’re not his boyfriend? You’re not the one who told him not to dance?”

“No. That’d be Tommy.”

Silence.

“What the _fuck?!_ Tommy tried to _fucking drown you?!”_ Kevin launched himself over to an overly silent Connor whose tears had begun again – this made Kevin’s nose bleed even more, staining the white carpet.

“It was months ago, it doesn’t matter.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“We weren’t friends. Tommy said that you, that you, that you had a _pervy crush_ on me and that you were trying to destroy our relationship. I, sorry, fuck, sorry.”

Kevin vowed from that moment on to protect Connor no matter the cost.

 

***

 

The wedding was beautiful even if it wasn’t in the big Salt Lake Temple – after all, Arnold wasn’t an exemplary Mormon and according to the Church Naba was never indoctrinated anyway.

Arnold managed to say Naba’s full name with no mistakes. Kevin would claim in his best man speech that this was due to months of teaching Arnold to say it properly over and over again – other notable highlights in the best man speech were how Mafala had tried to prevent Arnold from getting with Naba in the first place through threat of illness and how much Arnold had gushed over Naba during their time in Uganda.

Despite the thrill of the day, Connor couldn’t help but be nervous about when Tommy would ultimately arrive. After Connor’s confession and after a brief breakdown, Kevin and Steve had managed to convince Connor to break up with Tommy and move out of their apartment. Steve had given Connor his number again with a fake threat that if Connor didn’t reply again he would ‘fight’ him. Connor had laughed at that.

Even though Kevin had said that he would be present when Connor broke up with Tommy, Connor was on edge all day, desperately clinging onto Kevin at any chance he got. As the day rolled into the evening, he daren’t leave Kevin at all, staying firmly by his side until Arnold had asked Kevin to sing with him in a rendition of _I Just Can’t Wait To Be King_ – irony at its finest.

During Zazu’s part of the song, taken gleefully by Poptarts, Connor felt a tug on his blazer sleeve. He turned, a smile on his face, thinking it was Naba whom he hadn’t seen for half an hour. The smile dropped when he met Tommy’s grey eyes.

“Can we talk outside?” Tommy asked, not allowing Connor to make the decision for himself by grasping onto his wrist tighter than he had ever done so before, leaving no room for Connor to wriggle free and run into the crowd.

Tommy led Connor out into the cold February air, leading him further and further from the safety of the hotel that the wedding was being hosted in. They stopped behind a bush out of the line of sight from the hotel reception.

“So, you haven’t messaged or called me in days and I have to come all the way to fucking Salt Lake City to see you constantly with _him!?”_

“I, I, Tommy, this, I. I’m sorry. Can, can you get off me, stop touching me,” Connor attempted to pull away from the grip Tommy had on him; Tommy merely tightened his grasp. “Please, get off me. Tommy, _please_.”

“I think I get to call the shots here, seen as I told you not to go fucking near him. You deliberately disobeyed me.”

“He’s my friend, my _best friend_ and I can do whatever the hell I want to, get _off me_ , you’re hurting me.”

“You’re my boyfriend an- “

“I don’t want to be with you anymore. Leave, just _leave_ I don’t want you. Get _off me now_.”

Tommy paused for a second. Connor breathed a sigh of relief when Tommy began to loosen his grip. This calm changed when Tommy cupped Connor’s chin with one hand, his fingers squeezing Connor’s cheeks and jaw as a whole. The other hand remained holding onto one of Connor’s wrists.

“You’re mine. I can _hold_ you however I want. This is what _love is_ , yeah? You’re not going to find it anywhere else, you’re – “

A fist flew in from nowhere striking Tommy on the face. Tommy released Connor’s face and wrist, the ex-Mormon immediately reaching up to touch his face, wiping away a couple of stray tears.

“ _Futa mbali_! Get away from him, get away from my wedding, and never come back!”

Thank God for Nabulungi Cunningham.

 

*** 

 

“That’s it, Liam! You’re nearly there!”

The little boy’s face was set in determination, his brow furrowed and lip bitten in concentration.

“You can hold onto the bar if you want.”

Liam shook his head and with a flourish, he finally stood up on his tiptoes, an incredible feat for a five-year-old.

“Well done!”

Steve Blade motioned for time and Connor dramatically sighed.

“That’s it for this week kids!”

This was followed by the groans of several children.

“I know, I know. Remember to bring tap shoes next week!”

The kids filtered out, chatting animatedly between each other. Whilst Connor was ushering the final children out of the room, Liam turned back to face Connor.

“Master McKinley?”

“Yes, Liam?” Connor crouched down to Liam’s level.

“Other kids keep saying I’m weird because I do ballet. It makes me sad.”

Connor smiled. “People used to say I was weird too. They wanted me to stop dancing but I told them to stop telling me mean things. Do you think you can tell them to stop?”

Liam nodded and gave Connor a hug. Connor was taken aback by this but hugged Liam back quickly before motioning for him to go to his mother.

Steve offered a hand for Connor to stand up.

“Pas de Deux?”

“Yeah.”

“Is Kevin coming to watch today?”

“No. He’s organising a big surprise for me apparently.”

“You like him!”

“No I don’t!”

“You’re blushing!

“Just dance, Steve.”

“But – “

“No speaking just dance.”

Connor McKinley had been dancing for as long as he could remember. Now he had a glorious roommate by the name of Kevin Price whom he thought he could probably love – this time he was ready for it -, a wonderful friend and dance partner by the name of Steve Blade, and a beautiful family in the shape of the ex-Elders from Uganda, as well as a niece, Leia who was the creation of Arnold and Naba.

He was _home._

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr: seaweed-is-cool
> 
> Kudos and comments make me high key happy!


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